


the prince & the reed

by Pence



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Medieval, But not a Game of Thrones AU, Childhood Sweethearts, Coming of Age, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Inspired by Game of Thrones, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Rated For Violence, Rating will likely remain the same but I will warn if there is a change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-20
Updated: 2019-05-25
Packaged: 2020-01-20 20:44:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 12,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18532831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pence/pseuds/Pence
Summary: "I wanted to marry you," the prince murmured, polished armor gleaming as he stared down at the injured man--icy eyes tinged with sadness. Regret.A guttural scream ripped from the soldier's throat as a heel dug into his wound, arm coated crimson from his weeping shoulder.The soldier's teeth were stained pink as he jerked his chin up to grin toothily at the other man, bloody fingers scrambling down his thigh in search of the dagger tucked into his boot."Then drop to your knees and ask me properly, Nines."





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Y'know what's a bad idea? Starting a fic when I'm still working on completing a few others. OH WELL.
> 
> This is the first time I've worked with a beta and, my lord, it's been such an enlightening experience. I'd like to thank the hell out of @FallLover on AO3 for reaching out and offering their assistance in helping me edit this first chapter. They were a plethora of knowledge and opened my eyes to many parts of this chapter that benefited from expansion or revision. Please check out their stuff and send them the adoration they deserve!
> 
> This is going to be a limited series. Right now I have it slated for 4 chapters, but knowing my dumb self, it may push to 5.
> 
> Please enjoy and let me know what you thought in the comments!

During the twenty-eighth winter in the era of the Wolf, a baby boy was born; his skin was deathly pale beneath the shallow, pink gloss of mother’s blood.

Panic ensued upon his arrival as no cry ushered from his tiny lungs, and he lay limp within the hands of bed nurses. Blood soaked into the silk sheets curled around his mother’s thighs as the infant was swaddled in soft blankets and handed into a pair of slender, dark arms.

A mantra murmured from painted lips as the babe’s ashen face turned blue and long-nailed fingers pressed against his still chest. The flutter of a waning heartbeat tapped against his fragile ribs. A surge of magic that spurred the first breath of life, twisting through his delicate limbs and releasing itself in a tiny, fragile cry.

“All hail Prince Richard Kolby Stern, ninth of his name,” the woman murmured, gaze lifting to the bowed heads and folded, bloody hands of the room’s staff.

Winter blue eyes opened as the baby cried again, blinking up at the woman as his face turned a rosy, healthy pink. His mother lay motionless as he was whisked from the room, her dark, chestnut eyes staring unseeing into the high rafters.

A murmur followed in the wake of their retreat, broken only by the fading click of heels against stone tile.

 

_“The Queen is dead. Long live The Prince.”_

 

\-----

 

During the twenty-eighth summer in the era of the Wolf, a baby boy was born, writhing in quivering arms as screams ripped from his throat.

A course dampened rag ran urgently along his squirming limbs as whispers were pressed to his brow by his trembling mother. Pleas for silence failed as his wailing grew louder and cheeks redder.

“Hush little one,” begged the woman, tears running down her nose as she laid a kiss upon the infant’s head. Her hands continued to shake as she swaddled him in old fabric repurposed from her skirt.

The walls of the brothel’s chambers were thin and failed in suppressing the infant’s cries. The only blessing was that the customers of the establishment were drunk or focused on getting drunk and finding a warm body to spend the evening with, and in either case, long used to crying and wailing, should they even notice.

The door of the room squeaked as it was pushed open. A woman stepped into the room, shutting the door as her somber gaze turned to the weeping mother.

“It would be a mercy to drown the poor thing now, sister,” came the gentle suggestion of the newcomer, painted lips turning into a frown. “The Mistress will not allow you to keep a child here.”

As the baby quieted within the confines of the swaddle, his mother resumed weeping in wet, painful hiccups. The mattress dipped as the two women huddled together, arms curled around one another.

“I will leave him with his father,” the mother whispered, watching the writhing bundle from against a bony shoulder. “Surely a noble wouldn’t turn away his own blood.”

“Lord Kamski will never accept the child as his own, my dear,” chided the other woman, leaning back to wipe tears from the weeping woman’s cheeks with the swipe of her thumb. “You must ask yourself what the kinder option is: end him now or condemn him to the life of a Reed. Are you sure that the latter is a worthy existence?”

The new mother bowed her head and choked out a fresh wave of tears onto her bloodsoaked sheets. The baby was lost in peaceful, ignorant slumber as his future was decided from the other side of the bed.

“I don’t know,” the woman sobbed, turning her face once more into the other’s shoulder. The other woman rubbed gentle circles into her shoulder blades as she cried, knuckles white as her fingers curled into the other woman’s gown.

 

_“I don’t know.”_

 

\-----

 

During the thirty-fifth winter in the era of the Wolf, a lone horse trotted along a frozen, beaten path. White farmlands expanding up and around in in snow painted valleys. A broad-shouldered, blond knight stared ahead towards the horizon, thick furs tickling his chin with every gentle gust of a calm morning.

He had been looking for something--a person, a place, a sign--when a soft sneeze brought his attention down to the bundle against his chest.

The young prince sat miserably against the knight’s fur-lined leathers, swathed in his own cozy protection from winter’s unforgiving bite. The freckles that peppered his face were hidden by the flush of his cheeks, unused to the frigid climates of the North.

Icy blue eyes turned up to the knight as the rumble of a laugh rattled against his shoulder.

“I want to go home, Sir Anderson,” the prince said.

“You need to call me Hank in these lands, your highness,” came the knight's fond reply, gaze returning to the road as the child sagged defeatedly against him. “And not until the rebellion has ended. Once your brother is anointed King, it’ll be safe to travel home.”

“Connor can’t be King,” the prince replied, voice muffled as his furs were pulled more securely around his aching face. “He still can’t write with a quill and keeps tracking mud into our quarters from the stables.”

Hank snickered as he adjusted his grip on the reigns, long used to the ache in his thighs from the long trip from the Southern kingdom.

“Lady Amanda will act as regent until he has come of age,” the knight assured the sniffling, miserable prince. “I’m sure that Connor will have mastered the craft of penmanship by the time he takes the throne. And when he does, he’ll track mud into his own kingly quarters.”

The prince remained silent as they continued down the lonely, frozen road. His eyes had settled upon the beginnings of a small town that emerged over the bend of the path: homes and business that grew denser near the base of a sizeable fort. As the pair drew closer, the smell of (presumably) human soil hit the little prince and he turned his face into the furs to hide from the stench.

“It’s not that bad,” Hank chastised. “The wind will chase away the worst of it.”

The sound of a hammer banging on metal filled the air as they neared a smithy, and a pleasant gust of heat from the inside hit their cheeks as they passed. Villagers moved along the road between loud vendors whose arms were laden with wares. The frozen flattened earth had thawed into a thick muck that slurped and popped with every step of the horses’ hooves.

The child drew back against the knight’s leathers as many eyes turned to gaze at the odd pair with unabashed attention. The prince saw weathered faces pulled into distrusting frowns. Soft whispers and heads followed the passing knight, eyeing the rich broadsword strapped to the horse’s saddle pack.

“They don’t know who we are, Nines,” Hank assured, attention on the heavy doors of the fortress growing ever-nearer. “People here don’t much trust southerners. Or any stranger, really. But they’re also a loyal people who wouldn’t dare harm a child, let alone one of your highness’ standards.”

“Why don’t they trust us?” The boy asked, turning his chin upward to meet the thoughtful purse of the knight’s lips. “We’re allies with the North. They support my brother.”

“Aye,” Hank hummed, gaze flickering down to the watchful boy. “But they’re reluctant allies at best. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

“I’m old enough, Sir Hank. I just turned seven.”

“Just Hank,” the knight chuckled, pulling on the horse’s reigns as they came to a halt at the heavy gate. “And you’re still a child. Embrace that.”

The displeased prince was left ignored as a guard poked his head from the scaffolding above the gate. Nines ignored the exchange of gruff pleasantries as he glanced to the slitted stone openings tracing the fortress’ walls.

Another boy watched him from one of the high windows to his right, face pressed to the narrow stone notch as he stared down. The prince blinked in surprise to see someone of his age in such a dreadful place. Freeing his arm from the confines of his furs, Nines raised his hand in a small, nervous wave.

The other boy did not move to reciprocate, continuing to stare down at the little prince with the distrustful narrowing of his stormy gray eyes. It was only when Nines’ hand fell back into the folds of his furs that the boy moved. Leaning through the slotted window, the child pressed his cheek to the cold stone and stuck his tongue out at the prince.

A giggle bubbled past Nines lips at the absurd action, and he leaned forward on the saddle to return the gesture, poking his tongue past cold-chapped lips.

The other boy’s laughter was carried away by the wind as he leaned back, beaming down at the prince with a wide grin--gap-toothed and crooked. Nines couldn’t help but smile back, amusement and fondness bubbling in his chest.

The moment was cut short at the first crack of the large gate, drawing both boys’ attention as it groaned softly on worn, iron hinges. Glancing back up to the window, Nines frowned as he watched the other child disappear back into the inky blackness of the fort’s interior.

“Eyes ahead, little prince,” Hank murmured, as the horse moved forward beneath the fortified arch of the fortress. “It’s time to meet the Kamskis.”

 

\-----

 

“I’ve never seen a boy so pretty...”

 

The banquet hall was loud with laughter and conversation, packed to the brim with guards and servants within the fortress. Fatty meats and cheeses were passed down the long, wooden benches as stew was sloppily ladled into metal bowls.

It wasn’t often that the noble House Kamski allowed the entire castle to partake in food and drink within their presence. The fort had been buzzing with whispers of the event--rumors of visiting nobility and war heroes. Whether to flaunt their generosity to those serving under their name or to fill the otherwise empty chamber with a jovial energy, the Kamskis had gone all out.

Whatever the occasion, Gavin was just pleased enough to be able to eat his fill of Kamski gold before he was back to sweet talking the kitchen staff into allowing him an extra bowl of porridge.

Gavin glanced up as he shoved another bite of mutton into his mouth, turning to the servant girl at his elbow. Following her gaze, he frowned as he caught sight of the strange noble boy he’d spotted entering the fort, sitting at the platformed table with the other nobles at the far end of the room.

“That’s gross, Tina,” Gavin scolded, voice muffled by the mouthful pushed into the hollows of his cheek. “Stop staring at him.”

Tina leaned her elbow on the table as she continued her unabashed stare, resting her chin upon her hand. “But all the boys up here are so boring, Reed. He’s got eyes like gemstones. I want to pluck them out and wear them in a crown.”

“You’re so weird.”

Tina’s knee knocked into his own as she snickered, taking up her mug to resume her watch over the wooden brim.

Gavin rolled his eyes and reached to the center of the table and ripped a chunk from the end of a dark, rye loaf. He took a hearty bite and glanced back at the platformed table. He frowned as he watched the subdued conversation of the lords and ladies.

Of his family.

Lord Kamski sat at the table’s center, engaging a stoic, blond man in polite conversation. Gavin was curious if the man was a soldier of some kind. The broadsword that was hitched to the man’s saddlebags upon their arrival had been more exceptionally crafted than Gavin had ever seen.

A knight, perhaps.

But whatever the stranger’s title, Gavin knew his father’s smile was empty, albeit polite. It was the same smile he’d peer down at Gavin, his bastard, with, particularly when they were also in the presence of Elijah, Kamski’s firstborn heir. His only true son.

Gavin’s glare grew softer as he turned his attention to his brother, watching the wild motions of his hands as he talked to the newcomer. Or, really, spoke _at_. From the flush of Elijah’s cheeks, Gavin could tell the boy was going on one of his regular, wild tangents. Blessed be the gods that it wasn’t Gavin’s ear that was forced to endure the brunt of it for once.

As he prepared to shove another far-too-large bite of bread into the limited capacity of his mouth, Gavin paused as his eyes met the cool gems that had caught Tina’s attention. The boisterous din of the room quieted as he held the boy’s stare, frozen to the uncomfortable bench with bread halfway into his mouth.

Embarrassed at having been caught spying, heat rose along the back of his neck and colored his ears a rosy pink. Gavin was thankful their table was in the darker part of the hall as he ducked his head and dropped the crust of rye back to his plate.

It was only when he was brave enough to peek up at the boy again that Gavin’s humiliation was shattered by astonishment.

Tina sighed at his side, leaning into Gavin’s shoulder. “He has a such a pretty smile too,” she hummed dreamily, voice low to his ear as if sharing a secret.

Gavin didn’t chastise her as he met the boy’s eyes again, unashamed in his staring as he memorized that small upturn of lips. Wrapped the gesture in a small box to hide away for himself.

Something pretty to call his own.

 

\-----

 

“Again!”

 

Nines ducked his head beneath his furs to hide his smile as Elijah groaned in despair. Servants moved around the small courtyard carrying baskets of clothing for the laundry or heading to other tasks, ignoring the small cluster of nobles and guards at the center.

Sitting upon a nearby barrel, Nines watched in amusement as arrow after arrow missed the bullseye target set up on the far end of the yard, frequently sailing over or around it. Laundry maids shrieked, ducking the latest arrow as it sailed over their heads and clattered against the stone wall of the fort.

Another pathetic moan pulled from the young lord. Nines let out a subdued giggle.

The fort’s Master of Arms, Ben Collins, shook his head disapprovingly at Elijah’s shoulder, arms folded across his breast. Stomach straining against his leathers and gray peppering his hair, the old soldier had taken up the task of preparing the fort’s occupants for war, regardless of their status or age.

Or reluctance to take up a weapon.

“I can’t,” Elijah complained, wooden bow knocking gently against his thighs as he turned to Master Collins. “I don’t have the proficiency for battle, Ben! What’s the point of learning to sh--?”

“It’s treasonous to deny the King aid when called to war, Elijah,” Ben scolded, disapproving tone contrasted by amusement tickling the lines of his face. “You best to learn to shoot now before a real swordsman tries to slit your throat.”

“I could just hire an army,” Elijah grumbled as he turned back to the target across the courtyard, glaring at the litter of arrows stuck in the frigid ground. “Why bother fighting when there are bigger, meaner fighters who will do it for a few copper pieces?”

“Insufferable,” Master Collins grumbled as the roll of his eyes fell upon the giggling Nines.

“And what of you, my lord? Are armies bought with coin a sign of loyalty?” Ben asked, mirth heavy in his voice despite the weight of his question.

Nines jumped in his seat at being addressed, glancing between the amused soldier and the despondent noble.

“I don’t know,” the prince admitted after a moment’s pause. “Noble houses must send aid when called to war by their monarch.”

“But if a house is unwilling to spill its own blood when fighting for your kingdom--is that a true ally?” Collins countered, shooting a small glance to the older child. Elijah stared back with unamused pursed lips.

Nines glanced once more between the pair, slowly picking up on the mockery behind Master Collins’ lesson. An amused smile was ducked beneath the warm fur of his collar.

“It depends,” the prince murmured, gaze meeting and holding the young lord’s. “If I were King, I’d prefer an able-bodied mercenary over an armored noble who can’t shoot a simple target.”

Master Collins had a loud, barking guffaw that bounced off the tall stone walls of the courtyard, drawing the amused attention of the servants. It was a contagious, comforting sort of laugh that had the prince suppressing his own.

Elijah did not appear equally amused.

“I’d like to see you shoot, little prince,” Elijah mocked, holding out the bow as he drew an arrow from the quiver at his thigh. “If you can hit the target, I will promise you my house’s loyalty until the end of time.”

“I would hope we’ve already won your loyalty,” Nines countered, stepping forward to accept the weapon. Tucking the bow beneath his arm, Nines made a show of plucking each individual finger from his leatherbound gloves. “Have the Kamskis not already sworn their fealty to my family?”

Elijah shrugged, accepting the gloves without question as Nines passed him again to take up position. Elijah sat upon the abandoned barrel “My father has,” he drawled, long legs crossing as he watched Nines deftly notch the arrow and draw the string back. “But I am not my father.”

“I see,” Nine murmured, lifting the bow toward the unhit target. Silence fell over the area, all eyes focused on the little prince as he let out a slow breath. The soft feathers of the arrow tickled his chin as he aimed, squinting against the bright snow gathering in the grooves of the brick walls.

A soft thud sounded as the arrow embedded into the hay-stuffed target, centered tauntingly in the crudely painted center.

The silence of the courtyard was broken by a small laugh from the balcony above. Turning, Nines glanced up to see the amused boy he’d spotted when he arrived The boy grinned widely as he stared at his astonished half-brother, mirth evident in the flush of his cheeks.

The boy’s smile faltered when he met Nines’ eyes, and the boy quickly pushed away from the railing to retreat out of sight.

Nines was disappointed.

“Cheater,” Elijah scoffed, drawing Nines’ gaze back to the outwardly unimpressed lord. “Everyone knows the South is rife with magic. How am I to know whether or not you enchanted the arrow?”

Nines’ dark brows rose at Elijah’s weak accusation, cognizant of the mischief in the pull of his grin. Unlike the cold North, the Southern kingdom embraced magic in practice and warfare. It had been long made essential in the daily lives of the South.

However, the gift of magic was rare and dangerous, bringing stigma and frequent deadly cost.

Nines was blessed to lack the skill.

“How many arrows shall I shoot to prove skill over trick?” Nines asked, accepting another arrow from an amused Master Collins.

Glancing over to the target, Elijah leaned back in his perch upon the barrel and let out a thoughtful hum. The single arrows was dwarfed by the large red painted center. Gentle snowflakes accumulated on the soft feathered end.

“Until no red can be seen,” Elijah challenged, turning his hungry gaze back to Nines.

Notching his next arrow to the bowstring, Nines let out a huff of amusement. “Very well,” he agreed, lifting the weapon once more to aim.

After a soft breath and the release of the string, the arrow soared across the courtyard to join its brother with a dull ‘ _thunk_ ’.

 

\-----

 

Light cast across the dark courtyard as Gavin pushed open the heavy wooden door of the courtyard. The contained heat of the fort escaped into the frigid night, rising with his breath to the shining winter stars.

The sound of distant chatter and clinking plates was silenced as the door shut behind him, inviting darkness back into the quiet evening, broken only by the occasional torch or window.

Letting out a visible breath, Gavin pulled his cloak tighter around himself and scurried over to the area Master Collins had been training his brother. While the weapons had been put away for the evening, the target remained situated at the far end of the yard.

The course tarp that had been tugged over the target’s frame had been torn to shreds with arrows; the entire red center having taken the brunt of the damage. Whatever had decimated the target had been removed, likely stored away for another day of target practice upon sunrise.

Gavin, however, turned his eyes to the many arrows that had embedded themselves haphazardly around the area. Master Collins always made Elijah put them away, but Elijah had stated that he’d deal with it later - after all, who else was allowed to shoot that target? It’s not like they were in the way.

Falling to a crouch at the nearest, Gavin twisted and maneuvered the head through the frozen soil, careful not to break the delicate wood of the shaft.

A sigh of relief passed through his lips as the arrow gave way before he stashed it whole into the cloth satchel at his side. It was a slow process retrieving the many arrows littering the yard from his brother’s messy shooting. He half suspected Elijah was a better shot than he let on, but missed because he knew that Gavin would steal every wayward arrow he failed to retrieve.

An unspoken peace offering perhaps, but Gavin wasn’t about to bring it up or look a gift horse in the mouth.

His fingers stung as he worked on freeing the fifth arrow, teeth chattering from the cold licks of winter threatening the edges of his cloak. He was so focused on his task that he failed to hear the low hum of the door opening and the crunching of approaching footsteps in the gathered snow.

“What are you doing?”

Letting out a soft yelp, Gavin jumped to his feet and watched in horror as the few arrows he’d already freed spilled from his bag in a faint clatter. Spinning on his heel, he turned to stare wide-eyed at the mysterious noble he’d been watching over the past fortnight.

While they’d had many opportunities to speak with each other, Gavin had been avoiding the other child for many a reason. Primarily it was the social disparity that was apparent even in the make of their clothing--but mostly it was to avoid his father’s ire.

This, however, had left Gavin at a loss in the appropriate way to address the young noble, leaving his mouth agape and wide-eyed.

“I… I-I...N-None of your business! Piss off!” Anger and insults were easier than lavish pleasantries, anyway.

Dark brows rose in surprise at the outburst as icy eyes continued to watch the embarrassed, fuming child. Gavin nearly jumped out of his boots as Nines dropped to a stoop and began to collect the arrows.

Gavin’s mouth went dry at the wrongness that twisted his gut as he stared down at the kneeling noble. He could already feel the strike of his father’s hand should he discover that a prince might ever stand lower than his bastard son.

“Stop that!” Gavin hissed through chattering teeth, falling to his knees at Nines’ side only to rip the arrows from his grasp. “I don’t need your help. Go back inside before you fall ill, your grace.”

“It’s ‘your royal highness’, actually,” Nines corrected, sitting back on his heels as he watched the other boy stuff the arrows into his satchel.

“What?”

“If you were addressing a duke or duchess, you might say ‘your grace’, but when addressing a prince, you are to say ‘your roya--”

“I don’t care,” Gavin huffed, shooting a heated glance over at Nines. “Why the hell would I ever need to know that? You’re just a dumb kid who’s bothering me.”

A subdued smile tugged at Nines’ lips. “You should care as a Lord’s son. If I wanted, I could command your tongue be cut from your mouth for speaking to me in such a manner.”

“I dare you,” Gavin scoffed, rubbing his hands on his thighs as he climbed stiffly to his feet. “And I’m not his son. You shouldn’t talk like that around here, uhm, my lord.”

“Your royal hi--”

Gavin’s cheeks heated. “I said what I said!”

A gentle giggle passed Nines’ lips as he shuffled to his feet, dusting off the knees of his trousers while he hid his smile within his furs. “Why are you collecting those arrows? There are plenty stashed away in the barrac--”

“I don’t want to get caught stealing from my father’s men,” Gavin interrupted, pulling his cloak tighter around himself as his own scowl dipped beneath his collar. The whispered ‘again’ was lost within the folds of fabric at his lips.

“And why do you need arrows?”

“To kill annoying princes,” Gavin muttered, bumping past the taller boy as he moved to the arrow he’d abandoned upon Nines’ arrival. “And to hunt.”

“I’m surprised there is anything to hunt in this frigid place,” Nines wondered aloud, following after Gavin at his heel. “This does not seem like suitable weather for anything to survive.”

“Not all of us live in a tropical paradise, your royal lordship,” Gavin huffed. “I’ve lived here all my life and survived.” He ripped the arrow from the frozen soil with a jerk. “Plus, there are plenty of rabbits in this area fattened up from Autumn. Now’s a better time than ever to collect a few furs.”

Nines was quiet as he followed Gavin while the shorter boy continued to retrieve arrows from around the yard. Gavin let out a stuttering breath as he stumbled once more to his feet.

“I think you’re the one who should go inside,” Nines murmured, watching as Gavin brought his palms up to his mouth to thaw the frozen digits with a warm puff of air..

“I’m fine,” Gavin huffed, rubbing his hands together. “I should be the least of your concerns, your princely highn--” He went quiet when Nines took his hands and clasped them beneath his own warm palms.

The temptation to rip away from the touch abated as his frozen fingers melted under the gentle heat.

“My name is Nines,” the other boy murmured, staring down at their joined hands with a small breath of laughter. “If you aren’t going to address me properly, you could at least call me by my name.”.

Silence fell heavily between them, broken only by crackling of the torches mounted to the fort walls.

It was broken by a forced cough.

“Gavin.”

Icy blue flickered up to meet storm gray. “Hm?”

“My name is Gavin.”

Nines smiled, giving the hands within his own a small squeeze. “It’s nice to meet you, Gavin. I do hope you’ll hesitate before shooting me now that you know my name.”

Nines’ eyes stayed fixated on Gavin, who struggled to suppress his own grin.

“Don’t count on it, Nines,” Gavin muttered, ducking his face away from the other boy’s gaze as he laughed. His thawing fingers returned the gentle squeeze.

 

“I’d score better furs from you than any wild rabbit.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh hey guys. I totally didn’t just go onto a month long hiatus... /s. I would go into the details about my absence but I think rather not hear my mundane silly reasons. Instead you can have this monster!
> 
> I’d like to thank @FallLover on AO3 for betaing once more. Your comments and insight have truly made this into something I’m incredibly proud of. You guys should go check out some of their work! They write the best goddamn Nines.

 

 

 

During the sixth spring in the era of the Hound, a deer trampled through the thin brush of a grove. Sticks snapped beneath the animal’s cloven hooves as it raced wildly ahead, kicking up dried leaves as it wove around young trees. The animal’s wide eyes focused on the dense forest ahead; the thick foliage provided an escape from its pursuing predator.

The deer stumbled as an arrow whizzed past its head, embedding into a tree with a soft thud. The startled deer ducked again as another arrow flew overhead, but the creature picked up its speed.

The footfalls of its pursuer grew fainter as the animal neared the denser part of the forest, distant curses following the path of the beast. The deer lunged towards freedom.

But its escape was cut short when an arrow embedded into the soft flesh of its throat, sending the animal to the earth with a strangled grunt.

“Damn you, Nines!”

Gavin came to a panting halt, bending over slightly to rest his hands on his knees as he fought to catch his breath. His cheeks were red from exertion, a bead of sweat trailing down the valley of his nose.

Twigs cracked and leaves crunched as Nines approached through the brush, unfairly unexhausted and unblemished.

“I almost had it!” Gavin snarled between gasps, turning his flushed face at an angle that allowed him to shoot a proper glare up at the unconcerned prince. “That was my ki--!”

“That makes it four to two now, hm?” Nine interrupted, brows rising as Gavin shut his mouth and grimaced. “And I believe your claim fell away after the second of your failed shots.”

“Fuck you.” Gavin straightened with a grunt, ignoring Nines’ soft chuckle. Unlooping the bow from where it was tucked at his shoulder, Gavin strapped the bow to his back before moving forward towards his kill.

_Nines’_ kill. Damn him.

Nines’ chuckles grew louder as Gavin walked past him, knocking his shoulder into Nines forearm. In the seven years during which Nines had been a ward of the Kamski family, they had grown significantly from the little brats who used to terrorize the servant quarters with their antics.

Nines especially had hit a wave of growth in the last year. When they first met, Gavin almost stood level with him. Now, Gavin was embarrassed to find that the crown of his head barely brushed Nines’ nose.

Tina had laughed away his complaints with a friendly (painful) smack to the shoulder. “You’re just a late bloomer. You’ll fill out.”

He could only pray.

Stepping through the brush, Gavin frowned as he came to a stop near the fallen deer. Red blood ran in rivers across the soft brown of the deer’s pelt. Dark eyes stared up at him in terror, long lashes flickering with every wet huff that pulled out of the pathetic thing.

Falling to a crouch, Gavin reached down to his boot and extracted a dagger. The appearance of the blade startled the animal into a mess of quivering muscles.

“Poor thing,” Nines murmured from over Gavin’s shoulder, crunching leaves falling silent. “I had hoped it was a clean kill. My aim was off.”

A gentle, comforting hum rumbled in Gavin’s throat as he reached forward to lay a hand against the deer’s neck, feeling the pounding heart flutter against his fingers. “It was the best shot you could have taken from that angle.”

Messier kills were always difficult. Gavin hated it when they didn’t die immediately. They always suffered more that way. He offered comforting murmurs to try to calm the creature before quickly cutting its throat.

  
Gavin watched its twitches and the light in the creature’s eyes fade away, and murmured quiet apology under his breath.

Sitting back on his heels, Gavin said nothing as Nines crouched down at his side. Birdsong picked up around them in the forest canopy. Dappled light trickled through the leaves to warm their skin.

Gavin glanced down as a hand pushed against his own. Lily white fingers twined around his blood-soaked knuckles. Nines didn’t say anything as he continued to watch the deer: no praise, respectful condolences, or solidarity.

Only the gentle squeeze of the hand cradling his own.

 

\------

 

“I don’t believe you.”

 

Nines chuckled, glancing up from the firepit to meet Gavin’s skeptical gaze. Gavin stood shirtless a few paces from where Nines sat, blood soaking his hands as he worked on skinning the deer.

“I do not lie, Reed,” Nines replied, blue eyes glittering with mirth. “Elijah promised to keep my whereabouts a secret so long as I guarantee him a spot on Connor’s council.”

“Elijah isn’t that stupid,” Gavin said with a huff, blade falling to his thigh as he turned to face Nines more fully. “Lord Kamski would never allow him to abandon his duties as Warden to serve on a gilded court. Never.”

“Perhaps he’ll request repayment once your father dies,” Nines suggested, noticing the brief twist of Gavin’s lips at the word ‘father’. “Whenever that might be.”

Gavin ‘hmmed’ as he turned back to the hanging carcass. Lifting his blade, the boy cut through the soft tissues of the deer’s hide, careful to avoid pressing into muscle. With patience and a practiced hand, the coat was slowly peeled away.

“Do you even have enough pull with the King to deliver on such a promise?” Gavin asked, attention focused on his task.

Nine glanced away to the fire before him as he thought over the question. Rabbit meat sat skewered to sticks against the flame, dripping juices and fats as it slowly roasted. Flames hissed and licked toward the meal with every drop of liquid that fell into the pit.

“Connor and I are very close. While I cannot guarantee your brother a spot on the council, I can put the suggestion in my brother’s head. Connor trusts me.”

“Then, why are you still here?”

“Pardon?”

With a final, triumphant tug, Gavin pulled the unblemished skin free from the hanging carcass. Gavin dropped his knife in the dirt and used his knuckles to wipe the sweat from his brow, simultaneously smearing blood across his skin.

“The war ended years ago,” Gavin pointed out, crossing a few paces away to a rope tethered between two trees. Three rabbit furs hung alongside the newly placed deer hide, warming in the gentle sunlight seeping through the thin canopy above.

“It ended and your brother was crowned king,” Gavin continued. ”Lord Kamski has already run the remaining Northern rebel groups out of the region--or at least quieted them down.” Gavin picked the blade back up and cleaned it on his thigh as he made his way over to the fire, sheathing it as he sat. Nines watched the other boy with a frown, fingers curled self-consciously in the fabric of his cloak.

“That does not mean I am not in danger,” Nines suggested softly. “I’m sure there is a good reason why I remain your father’s ward.”

“Stop… calling him that.”

Nine sighed, releasing his cloak in favor of turning the skewers to assure an even roast. “Why does that bother you?”

“He’s not--It just does,” Gavin muttered, glaring into the flames as they crackled and hissed from the rabbit’s fatty drippings. “... He’s not my father.”

“But--”

Gavin’s chin jerked as he glared at the prince. “Do you even know why the bastard name in this region is Reed?”

Nines’ lips pressed into a grim line, meeting Gavin’s heated gaze. He had a lot of questions regarding Gavin’s status within the Kamski household, and answers were rare. But this, the origin of the name ‘Reed’, he knew.

Plucking one of the skewers from the fire, Nines offered it to the other boy as an unspoken means of apology. Gavin glared at the proffered meat. But he ultimately sighed and plucked the skewer from Nines’ hand, quickly stuffing his face. He yelped when he burned his tongue, and Nines let out an awkward laugh as he watched.

 The tension faded. Nines knew they’d have to come back to this someday. But for now, all was well.

\-----

 

Within the first few months of his stay, Nines learned that acknowledging Gavin’s existence around Lord or Lady Kamski was unacceptable. Lady Kamski often grew cold and distant when in the presence of her husband’s bastard, usually focusing her attention on the shadows of the room until Gavin was out of sight.

Lord Kamski, while loyal to the crown and with stiff respect for the prince, had nearly yelled at Nines for asking after Gavin.

“You’d do well to avoid that brat,” Kamski snarled, bread knife embedded in the rich wood of the dining table within his shaking grip. “Do not speak his name in my presence again, your royal highness.”

Kamski’s angry flush deepened when Nines continued to press the issue, dinner forgotten as he attempted to sate an appetite of a different breed. “But he is your son.”

“I’ve only one son,” Lord Kamski hissed, sitting back into his seat as his eyes darkened beneath a furrowed brow. “And his name is not _Reed_.”

Only Elijah acknowledged his brother’s existence within the fort. The hours after that dreadful meal had been the first time Nines had found himself appreciative of the eccentric lordling’s attentions.

“You must excuse my father for his outburst,” Elijah said at the entrance to Nines’ bedchamber, shoulder pressed into the rich wood of the door.

“Why? He has no love for one of his own children,” Nines replied, watching the other boy from where he sat on his bed.

“There is much you do not understand about the north, your highness,” Elijah said, pushing away from the door to step more fully into the room. With a short glance into the hall, he pulled the heavy door closed for privacy, then looked back at Nines.

“Gavin is a threat.”

“Gavin is a _child_.”

Elijah smiled, crossing the room to plop down at the prince’s side. “Yes. A child who is arguably the biggest threat to me and the future of the Kamski reign. Tell me, your hi--”

“Nines.”

“--Nines,” Elijah corrected, smile only growing wider as his eyes glittered from the fireplace across the room. “Does the south have a bastard name?”

Nines blinked, fingers stroking through the furs draped across his lap. “A bastard name?”

“I’ll take that as a no,” Elijah hummed, elbow pressing into the mattress as he leaned on his hand. “In the north, there is a different surname that all bastard children are forced to adopt. It is usually regional. If you were to travel southeast to the Lakes, the children there have the bastard name Stone. Head toward the mountains, and you will find the Winters.”

“And here it’s the Reeds,” Nines surmised, drawing his knees up as he watched the lordling nod.

“They’re cruel names,” Elijah murmured, smile fading as he stared unblinkingly up Nines. “It is a brand that follows the child into adulthood--an introduction to anyone that they are of a class that should have never been born. Gavin was lucky that my father showed kindness in allowing him into our household.”

“How is treating him like a burden ‘kindness’?” Nines asked, anger pooling in his stomach as he glared down at the other boy.

“The bastard name Winter originated from the ancient practice of leaving bastard babies out in snow drifts,” Elijah murmured, effectively silencing Nines. “The people near the Lakes thought that was cruel mercy and instead would bash the baby’s head with a rock or stone. A fast, if not brutal, death.”

Nines stared in unmasked horror, fear shooting like lightning down the muscles of his arms.

Elijah continued. “And here they would take the baby to the shallows of a river to drown it, often leaving the body behind in the grass and reeds. Nature would devour any evidence of the child’s existence. Like they never existed at all.”

“That is awful,” Nine croaked, cheeks drained of color as he stared into Elijah’s uncaring expression.

“That is politics,” Elijah countered, shifting to lay on his back to stare up into the dark corners of the ceiling. “While illegitimate, Gavin has far more claim to my father’s wealth and lands than any other citizen. If my family were to be killed, all it would take is the blessing of your brother to gift Gavin with the name of Kamski. Now, do you see why my father despises him?”

Nines was silent for a few moments, staring at his knuckles as he listened to the crackling of wood from the fireplace. Licking his lips, the prince glanced up. “If it is tradition to… murder illegitimate children in this region, why did your father allow Gavin to live? There is obviously little love there.”

“My father is many unsavory things,” Elijah began, shifting onto his side to watch the pained expression on the prince’s face. “He is known to be cruel and ruthless. Selfish and unkind. But he’s honorable and duty bound. While Gavin will never inherit the family name, he is still of our blood.”

Nines sighed, then maneuvered so that he could plop down next to Elijah, lacing his fingers over his stomach. He relaxed into the silence that settled between them, basking in the comfortable heat of the bedchamber.

“Elijah.”

“Mm?”

“If a bastard were to grow up and marry someone of status, would they be legitimized?”

Elijah was silent, glancing at the side of Nines’ face. A whisper of laughter preceded his words: “Are you planning to marry my brother, Nines?”

Nines flushed and frowned, half-glaring at the ceiling. “I-I… No. I m-mean--”

“Well,” Elijah began, sparing the flustered prince the effort of having to come up with a decent excuse, “While they will never hold claim to the name they marry into, I would assume the powers of that family would become their own to wield. It’s a poor choice for a noble, however, as it’s a poor political move.”

“Marrying a bastard?”

“Marrying for love,” Elijah sighed. “Which is the only reason I imagine someone would do such a thing. You’ve nothing to gain by marrying someone of lesser birth, particularly to that degree of _lesser_.”

Nines frowned, head turning to meet Elijah’s watchful gaze. “Aside from happiness.”

Elijah smiled sadly. “But that’s not in the cards for you and me, is it?”

Nines’ brows furrowed as he turned his gaze back to the ceiling.

 

No. His deck was stacked.

 

\-----

 

Elijah’s late-night visits became common as the years went by and both boys found solace and understanding in each other. Their friendship, while heavily encouraged by Lady Kamski, went beyond political alliance and allowed for the airing of grievances in the quiet of night.

However, where Elijah existed as stability, Gavin was freedom.

Despite being a ward within the Kamski household, Nines was still expected to attend lessons to learn how to exist in the highly political life of a prince. As second in line to the throne after his brother, and ultimately his brother’s heir until Connor produced one of his own, Nines had special duties, and of course had to be ready in case he somehow moved up in the succession. Even if Connor were to live a long and fruitful life, Nines would likely serve as some kind of advisor, or maybe take charge in the military, and he had a strict education to guide him.

His mornings were filled with a range of subjects from, history to etiquette. His hands were often ink-stained and sore from writing. While Nines found the lessons tedious and boring, Elijah’s presence at most of them made it a little more bearable. The sixteen-year-old was wise beyond his years, and loved outwitting whatever ‘great mind’ Amanda shipped up from the South.

Most of the tutors counted their blessings when their tenure in the household was up, packing quickly for their trip back to warmer weather and uninterrupted slumbers without a curious young Lord banging on their door with questions.

Afternoons consisted of fighting lessons in the yard, often under the watchful eye of Captain Collins.

While strict in his lessons, the old soldier was often lenient in allowing Nines a bit of fun during the training. Usually the prince’s opponents consisted of Kamski’s soldiers or Elijah himself. It was no secret that Nines was skilled with a sword and bow, but he was still young, and had something to learn from seasoned fighters.

But sometimes, when the watchful eye of the Lord and Lady were turned away toward other duties, Captain Collins would beckon over the pair of observant children lurking at the corners of the yard. The years had made them bolder in their watching, particularly the leader of the pair.

Excited energy filled the small courtyard as Tina bodily dragged Gavin from their hiding place, her wide grin contrasting with his scowl. Her skirts had been replaced by a pair of old trousers, patched at the knees with crude off-colored knitting. A training sword was tucked into the loop of her belt.

“I’ve been practicing with Gavin!” Tina exclaimed as they reached the waiting Collins and Nines, releasing her grip on a grumbling Gavin. “He falls for my feints every time!”

“I do not,” Gavin muttered, blushing angrily at the girl’s words. His flush darkened when he noticed the fond smirk tugging across Nines’ face.

“ _Almost_ every time,” Tina clarified with a huff, elbowing the flustered boy at her side. “But I think I’m finally prepared to wipe the floor with you, Nines!”

“Your royal highness,” Captain Collins corrected with a smile, shaking his head as Nines waved him off.

“I accept your challenge,” Nines replied, drawing his own training sword from the loop at his waist. Tina practically bounced with excitement as she crossed to stand closer to him. Gavin retreated to the sidelines with Captain Collins, arms crossed tightly across his chest.

“Shall we make it interesting?” Tina asked, following Nines’ lead in taking a few steps back, her sword held lightly at her side.

“What do you propose?”

Tina hummed, looking up towards the thin clouds overhead. A smirk appeared on her face as she glanced over to Gavin, making Gavin feel a drop of wary fear.

“If I win, I get a kiss from Gavin.”

“What?!” Gavin yelled from the sidelines, face impossibly red.

“And if I win?” Nines asked, brows rising as he glanced between the two other children.

“If you win, _you_ get a kiss from Gavin.”

“You can’t just bet me like a fucking prize!” Gavin snarled, batting Captain Collin’s hand away as he attempted to knock the boy for his colorful language. “That isn’t fai--”

“Deal,” Nines interrupted, much to Gavin’s horror and Tina’s absolute delight.

Any spluttering protest was lost on the pair as they faced one another, readying their blades. Captain Collins pushed Gavin back as he took a single step forward, planting his hands on his hips.

“On my signal,” the man called, glancing between the two duelists.

Nines stared Tina down, vowing to question the churning in his stomach later. He hadn’t responded… too quickly? Had he? Maybe it was just nerves. But he was never nervous fighting Tina. She was fun, but not his equal in combat.

“Begin!”

With an unmatched speed, Nines moved forward with an aimed strike toward Tina’s ribs. Despite her informal training, she easily caught his swing with the rise of her own wooden blade.

Pushing her weight into the weapon, Tina forced Nines to stumble back and unleashed a series of rapid strikes. Ribs, shoulder, hip.

The strikes were easily blocked and the courtyard was soon filled with the clatter of wood hitting wood. The pattern continued as both duelists struck and blocked, dodged and countered.

The monotony of the battle was broken when Tina ducked, swiping her foot into Nines ankle. Nines yelled as he fell onto his ass, losing his grip on his sword.

With a wide victorious grin and a glance to Gavin, Tina raised her sword to strike down and claim her prize. But Nines used her distraction to kick her legs, knocking her over and onto her back with a yelp.

Nines snatched up his sword again and leapt to kick her weapon away before moving to press his wooden blade to Tina’s throat. Both children were panting and sweating heavily as they stared at one another.

“I win,” Nines whispered, mirroring Tina’s returning grin.

“You win.”  
  
Nines lowered the weapon and offered Tina a hand up.

Tina laughed warmly as she accepted, allowing herself to be yanked to her feet. She recovered her weapon and turned to grin widely at a red-faced Gavin.

“Time to pay up, Reed!”

Nines’ stomach twisted into knots as Gavin squawked indignantly, glaring furiously between him and TIna, ears going a deeper red. “I never agreed to this!”

“Are you denying your _prince_?!” Tina asked incredulously, reaching up to snag Nines’ chin between her fingers, shaking him playfully. “He could have you executed for this!”

“Oh, piss off, Chen!” Gavin snarled, rolling his eyes before looking back to the silent Nines. “You gonna chop off my head, your _lordship_?”

“Not if you pucker up,” Nines replied, unable to keep the grin off his face as Tina guffawed. Even Captain Collins hid his smile behind his hand, cheeks pink with subdued mirth.

Gavin was not amused.

“The only thing you fuckers will be kissing is my ass,” he snarled, turning on his heel to storm back into the fort. This allowed Nines to appreciate the rosy blush that had climbed up the back of Gavin’s neck.

When Gavin was out of earshot, Nines turned to look at Tina, his gaze thoughtful. “Don’t think you fooled me, Chen.”

“Hm?” Tina ‘sheathed’ her weapon in its belt loop and laced her hands behind her back, feigning innocence.

“You know better than to look away from an opponent during a fight. You lost on purpose.”

“Don’t be so humble, Nines,” Tina chided, knocking her shoulder into his arm. “You’re a much better fighter than I will ever be. Of course you’d beat me, especially with the power of love strengthening your blows.”

It was Nines’ turn to roll his eyes, bumping back into her affectionately. “Whatever you say. You should train with me more often. You’re a much better opponent than half of Kamski’s soldiers.”

“I’ll consider it,” Tina said with a grin, turning to face him fully as Captain Collins wandered away to another task while they talked. “And you should consider sneaking out with Gavin and me tonight. The idiot promised to take me down to the tavern. I’m sure he’d be happy to have you join us.”

Nines wondered just how happy Gavin would be after all the teasing, but he still liked the idea. Then his smile fell. “Lord Kamski would never allow that.”

“That’s why I said _sneak_ ,” Tina replied with a huff. “I’ll stop by your chambers tonight with a disguise, fluff up your bedding into something prince-shaped, and run off. It’ll be fun. There’ll be music, drinks, me.”

“...All right,” Nines agreed, fingers tightening on his sword hilt as he felt a rush of excitement at the thought.

Tina nodded and stepped forward to offer him a short, friendly hug. He was used to it - Tina was very touchy with the people she liked - but she also used the moment to add: “Tonight, after dark.”. Stepping back with a wink, she gave him a short bow before scampering off in the direction Gavin had fled.

 

\-----

 

True to her word, Tina arrived at Nines’ chambers in the dead of night, arms laden with a wicker basket of laundry. She stepped past him and dropped her burden onto his bed, rolling it so the contents fell out.

“Undress,” she ordered, looking at him with a serious expression on her face.

“Excuse me?” Nines asked, eyes widening at the fact that it was an order as much as the content of the order.

“We need to dress you in something a little less noticeable.” Tina paused as she looked him over. “If you wore any of your normal clothing, you’d be practically begging for a knife in the back… or at least somewhere that wouldn’t stain the nice clothes they’d steal off your corpse.”

Nines shifted uncomfortably as Tina approached him, brows furrowing when she began to untuck his tunic from his belt. “Wouldn’t it also be likely to intimidate them?” he asked. “My identity isn’t exactly secret. Intimidation could be helpful in keeping people away.” He ultimately batted her away and took care of his tunic, pulling it over his head with a slight blush. Tina at least had the good grace to turn away from him, offering a new shirt over her shoulder.

“I hate to break it to you,” Tina replied, “but not a lot of people like your family, Nines,” She sorted through her pile of clothing as she listened to the rustle of Nines changing. “You aren’t safe going as…. You.”

“We won the war,” Nine said with a frown, accepting a pair of trousers from behind Tina’s back. After pulling them up, Tina peeked over her should before approaching with a belt. “I understand the hatred towards my late father, but Connor is King now. He is... kind. He already has a good reputation.”

“You’re such a sweet boy,” Tina hummed, weaving the belt between the loops of the prince’s trousers before stooping to her knees. With a gentle shove, the boy was forced to sit on the edge of the mattress as the first of two long-socks was pushed over his toes. “Naive, but sweet. So your brother is in charge and people like him, so what? For most of us, nothing changed after the revolution, and people are still unhappy. Some lords and ladies and a bunch of soldiers got dead, but a lot of the same people are still in power, and none of the laws changed, and the poor are by and large still poor and unhappy. Doesn’t make a difference to them whose butt is on the throne.”

“But if they don’t care about who’s in charge, why attack me? Just…. for money? That’s still risky. They could go to prison and be executed.”

“Doesn’t stop people who see a kid in fancy clothes that could buy them something to get through the night,” Tina replied, frowning as she met his gaze. “Plus, the revolution isn’t really over, Nines. You were sent here for protection, yeah? No matter what Lord Kamski might say, the revolutionaries within this region are still out there, and would jump at the chance to grab you or kill you.” Her eyes went a bit misty. “Even if you put out a fire, sparks can still escape, to make havoc elsewhere.”

“...You know something,” he said as he let her pull him to his feet by his wrists.

“Just whispers,” she replied, looping a cloak around his neck. “So long as you’re disguised, you should be fine. Just stick with Gavin and me.”

“Where is he?”

Tina smiled, reaching up to pinch the prince’s cheek. “Waiting. Don’t you worry, your highness. You’ll get that kiss before the night is through.”

 

\-----

 

Nines pulled his cloak tighter around himself as Tina pushed open the door leading out of the servant’s quarters. A hand on his arm stopped him from retreating out into the chilly night. Reaching up, Tina tugged his hood up and over his head, adjusting the lip of the fabric to better hide his face.

Gavin stood waiting nearby, his face mostly hidden in shadow. What Nines could see of his expression was somber, and he seemed to be gazing up towards the walls of the fortress, lips pressed into a thin line. As Tina and Nines neared, he looked at them and smiled wide. Nines wondered if Gavin had forgotten the earlier teasing. He wondered why that thought bothered him.

“You’re actually coming,” Gavin said.

Nines smiled. For some reason his breath was a bit stuttery, but he replied: “Of course I am.”

Gavin ducked his head at Tina’s forced cough, ears warm as he turned away from the two. “Stay quiet,” he whispered, leading them towards a nearby wall. The earth softened as they left the beaten path, sloping downward into a natural trench. Upon reaching the bottom, Gavin stooped to a knee and dug his fingers into one of the large bricks supporting the base, pulling it free from the wall.

After a few minutes of careful rearranging, a gap was revealed, allowing them to crawl through, even though it, stained their knees wet with mud.

Before Nines had climbed fully to his feet, a pair of gloved hands slapped his cheeks. Nines frowned as he looked up into Gavin’s face. “What was that for?”

“You’re too clean,” Gavin replied, smoothing dirty thumbs across the taller Nines’ cheekbones. Tina lingered nearby, arms folded as she watched the two with a knowing look.

“If we want a table, we should go,” she finally huffed, smirking at Gavin as he stepped away from a less pristine Nines. Nines preened a bit when Tina looked him over and nodded with approval.

They said nothing for a time as they stumbled up an adjacent hill before reaching another path. Tina’s arm looped within Nines’, grinning up at him as they followed in Gavin’s wake.

“Have you ever been to a tavern, your highness?” she asked. She only used his title when she was joking, so Nines wondered what the game was.

Nines looked away from Gavin’s back to watch Tina, who was now leaning against his shoulder. “When I was journeying up from the South with Sir Anderson. I pretended to be his son, Cole. Hank preferred to set up camp over sleeping at an inn.”

 

_‘Less chance some assassin can slit your throat while you sleep,’ Hank had chastised in the wake of Nines’ complaining._

 

“What kind of name is ‘Hank’?” Gavin asked, turning to walk backward with a smirk. “Sir Hank. That doesn’t roll off the tongue.”

Nine stared ahead disapprovingly, eyes taking in the buildings they were approaching. “Sir Anderson is an honorable man and has served as protector of my family for most of his life,” Nines chastised, ignoring the friendly squeeze of Tina’s hand on his arm.

“Yeah, but it’s still weird,” Gavin shrugged, smirk only growing as Nines narrowed his eyes. “Sir Hank. Sir Hank.”

“Sir Chen,” Tina hummed, jostling Nines’ arm gently as she skipped.

“That’s worse than Hank,” Gavin joked, snickering at Tina’s offended gasp. Even Nines struggled to suppress his giggle. Nines smiled, despite himself. It was hard not to, sometimes, when Gavin was smiling.

“Excuse me?!” Tina demanded.

“First of all, you’d be Lady Chen, not Sir. And secondly, you can’t become a knight. You’re a dumb servant girl.”

Nines stumbled slightly as his arm was violently released, watching as Tina marched up to Gavin in a huff. “I have more of a chance in becoming a knight as a ‘ _dumb servant girl_ ’ than you do as a bastard!”

“Honestly, I don’t know which of those is worse,” Gavin said with a shrug, before letting out a cackle as he ducked the open-palmed swing for his head.

Nines continued his leisured pace as he watched Tina chase Gavin up the path, swinging and kicking at the laughing boy. Nines snickered quietly as he watched Tina throw herself bodily onto Gavin’s back, forcing the boy to waddle, too stubborn to fall.

The smile on his face fell as whispers sounded from the side of a nearby building; a small group of people huddled at its side. The voices grew silent as Nines paused in his step, shadowed heads turning to meet his gaze. Fear prickled along his arms as he forced himself to move, jogging forward until he reached his loud companions.

“You alright, Nines?” Gavin asked, hunched forward as his arms were looped around Tina’s knees.

Nines hesitated, glancing back down the path as he swallowed thickly. No one had followed him.

“I’m fine,” he replied, reaching up to tug his hood down a little lower over his face.

Gavin wasn’t convinced, but chose not to press.

 

“Okay.”

 

\-----

 

As a prince, Nines had the misfortune of being expected to attend many feasts and parties. Thankfully the Kamskis were not frequent partiers, and he had been spared the many elegant but droll affairs he suffered when still in the South.

Whether gathering with Northern lords or Southern royalty, such events were usually subdued affairs, or at least relatively boring for a young prince. He was always kept back and hounded by people trying to get in his good graces, or nobles bargaining their children for his hand.

The tavern was loud, and Nines felt an odd fear, pressing against Gavin’s heels as they entered.

The place was big, and relatively well-lit, with a large hearth at one end, and small lit sconces on pillars throughout the room. People sat at scattered tables, smiling, laughing, sometimes clearly arguing, sometimes drinking or eating. Nines recognized some of them from the fort. The threesome didn’t get much of a glance, particularly when other newcomers walked in behind them, pushing them to the side. It wasn’t filthy and lewd and however else such a den of iniquity would be described to a young princeling by an overzealous caretaker, but it was different. No lords and ladies demanding his attention. No set place for him to be. Just people, having a time.

“C’mon,” Gavin called over his shoulder, reaching back to snag Nines’ hand as they pushed past a group of laughing off-duty soldiers to sit at the far end of an emptier long table in a darker part of the room. Nine was too focused on taking in the environment to notice himself being pushed down into a seat. Tina’s thigh pressed against his as she plopped onto the bench at his side, and Gavin sat across from him.

“It’s…. very crowded.”

“This is nothing,” Tina laughed. “You should see this place in the winter.”

Nines nodded, glancing over his shoulder toward the rest of the room with wide eyes. It was only when he spotted Captain Collins talking boisterously across the room that he turned quickly back towards Gavin.

“You’ll be fine,” Gavin said, gently patting Nines’ hand.

Nines nodded, glancing down at the hand covering his own. He opened his mouth to speak when the sudden presence of a stranger at his elbow made him jump in his seat. Glancing up, Nine stared with wide eyes at the tallest teen he had ever seen: muscular and broad-shouldered, but clearly young by his face.

“Evening Luther,” Tina said with a grin, leaning forward into the table to offer a short wave.

“I thought Todd told you kids not to come back here,” Luther said, smirking despite his accusatory tone. “If I remember correctly, he said he’d gut you both like pigs and dispose of you in his next batch of stew.”

Gavin scoffed, drawing his hand away from Nines to cross his arms. “I’d like to see that fat hog try to hop over the bar to catch us.”

Luther laughed, glancing over to the bar at the other end of the room. He shook his head and looked back down at Nines, considering. “Who’s your friend?”

Gavin cleared his throat. “This is uh--”

“Cole,” Nines finished for Gavin, offering Luther a smile and a nod.

Luther smiled back and looked back at Gavin. “You actually have money this time? I don’t need Todd breathing down my neck if he finds out I’m slipping you kids free drink.”

Gavin rolled his eyes and produced a small pouch from one of his pockets. He pulled out some coins and showed them to Luther. Luther reached out, but Gavin’s fingers closed into a fist around them.

“I’ll pay you extra if you spill a tankard on Todd’s head.”

Luther grinned. “I’m not as stupid as you are, Reed.”

“Worth a shot,” Gavin sighed, depositing the coins into Luther’s hand. With a chuckle and a shake of his head, Luther turned and abandoned the three to other tables.

“Where did you get that money?” Nines asked, folding his hands on the table as he caught Gavin’s wandering eye. Despite being a prince, there was little need for coin when he was rarely allowed beyond the Kamski grounds. If they learned he’d snuck out…

“Remember those pelts?” Gavin asked, tucking the pouch away. “I usually make a pretty penny for them at the market, especially if I do a good job with them. The deer skin alone netted me two silvers.”

“And the meat?” Nines remembered carting it back, but he’d been pulled away to lessons afterward, and hadn’t seen how Gavin disposed of it. He hadn’t found a chance to bring it up since, and it had mostly slipped his mind.

“Whatever I can’t sell, I give to the kitchens. And whatever they won’t take, I give to Kamski’s hounds.”

Nines nodded, leaning into Tina’s shoulder. The strumming of a lute caught the prince’s attention, drawing his eyes toward the fireplace. A boy near his age stood near the hearth, fingers dancing expertly along the strings as a melancholy, lovely song lifted over the general chatter.

When his eyes met the musician’s, Nines noticed his eyes were two different colors: one blue, one green. Nines looked away as Tina knocked her shoulder into his arm, laughing loudly at something Gavin had said.

Nines smiled as Gavin glanced his way, cheeks flushed from the warmth of the crowded tavern. Nines wanted the moment to last forever, and swore that he’d never forget this bit of happiness. Good friends, cracking harmless jokes at each other’s expense. The drinks were good when they came, and kept him warm. The music was beautiful, and the conversation lulled him. He was out of his element, but he was welcome, and felt safe, despite the danger. He had a place here, with these people, in this world.

 

This was home.

 

\-----

 

  
Nines and Gavin left without Tina, who insisted on staying longer to speak with the new barmaid, Kara. Luther had wished them goodbye, and promised to see Tina home after she’d finished making a lovestruck fool of herself.

Now the two boys looked towards the beacon of the fort. They were warm from the drink and clinging to each other, arms looped around each other as they lazily stumbled onward.

Gavin had long lost track of the story he was recounting, focusing more on the warm hand cupped in his own and Nines’ subdued laughter.

“You don’t have to, you know?” Nines murmured, offering Gavin’s hand a soft squeeze.

“Don’t have to what?”

“Pay up. The bet.”

“Oh.” Gavin’s already flushed cheeks grew hotter. As embarrassed as he’d felt after the duel, Gavin was surprised to find that he was a bit disappointed at Nines’ admission. He could blame it on the mead. He hoped.

Nines glanced at him, then stopped walking, pulling Gavin to a halt as well. Nines’ expression was confused, but there was a bit of curiosity and some emotion he couldn’t quite place in his heart.

“What if I want to?” Gavin asked, his face burning after he said it. Nines’ gaze seemed to be a physical thing, like the sun on a warm, cloudless day, burning into Gavin’s skin. Gavin’s free hand clenched into a fist. The pair was still holding their arms together. Nines still clasped Gavin’s fingers.

Nines moved even closer.

Hands cupped Gavin’s jaw, forcing him to look up into Nines’ face. Fear and wonder swirled in Nines’ steel eyes, lips slightly parted.

Gavin took that final step and pressed his chapped lips to Nines’, curling his free hand around Nines’ wrist wrists. Nines’ eyes shut, and he felt like he was melting under Gavin’s nervous, tender touch.

Gavin’s heart pounded as the grasp on his chin pulled him closer to Nines, forcing him onto the tips of his toes. Having never kissed anyone before, the lips pressed to his own were the confusing culmination of awkward and incredible.

Gavin would say later that he’d been sweating, not crying, and was glad that Nines’ eyes were closed so he wouldn’t see it. It was an odd bit of melancholy that broke through the literal heat of the moment. He wasn’t used to being wanted by anyone. He wished that he’d had even a shred of southern magic to freeze time. That he might be allowed to savor being wanted for a few extra moments.

Perhaps, with such magics, he might have been able to prevent the crossbow bolt from sailing towards them and making Nines scream as it buried itself in his thigh.

Gavin let out a wail of surprised as he was dragged down to the ground, eyes wide as he stared into Nines’ terrified face. Blood leaked through Nines’ fingers as he reached for the arrow. Gavin scrambled for him even as he distantly registered the sound of approaching footsteps and the click of a reloading crossbow.

“We were supposed to avoid hurting him, Leo,” a somehow calm-sounding voice said.

“Avoid _killing_ him. Said nothing about hurting, idiot.”

Reaching to his ankle, Gavin pulled out a dagger and climbed to his feet, knowing they’d have to deal with their attackers before Nines could be taken to someone to help. Three strangers, perhaps a few years his senior, watched from a short distance away, but stopped as the steel of his knife flickered in the moonlight.

As Gavin focused and his eyes adjusted in the dark, he could make out more details. The tallest was a young teen around Elijah’s age and had brown stubble over his jaw. The crossbow sat heavy in his arms, pointed directly at Gavin. At his elbow was a girl who glared at Nines with pursed lips. Her hair was braided down her shoulder, so long that it rested in the crook of her folded arms.

And standing a pace ahead of the other two was the bard who had been playing at the tavern. His lute was partially visible, hanging from his back. His empty hands were raised in front of himself as he watched the two, expression neutral despite his hostile introduction.

Gavin almost stumbled again when Nines’ hands closed like around his ankle, preventing him from moving. “G-Gavin. Don’t…!”

“We don’t want to hurt you,” the bard said, mismatched eyes flickering between the bleeding prince and his armed companion. “We were ordered to capture the prince alive.”

Gavin pulled out of Nines’ grip and stepped forward in a slight defensive stance, shielding Nines from the bard. Gavin gripped the dagger hilt tighter and bared his teeth, glaring furiously at the bard. “You’re not fooling me. You fucking shot him. What, you just expect me to let snatch him up because you fancy having a nice tea party? Fuck off. Fuck you!”

Amusement glittered in the bard’s eyes at Gavin’s words, arms dropping to his side.

“Oh just kill him, Markus,” the girl said from behind the bard as Leo raised his crossbow. “I’m freezing my ass off, and the princeling is bleeding out.”

Markus watched Gavin silently, expression blank despite the grim suggestion of the girl. Closing his eyes, the teen let out a soft sigh and raised his hand, knuckles facing the furious Gavin.

“I’m sorry.”

“Gavin!”

In the short breath between Nines’ cry and Markus’ apology, Gavin’s feet left the ground. An invisible force - a spell - knocked him back into the air, forcing a surprised yelp out of him, although it was quickly cut short when his back hit a wall and the breath was stolen from his lungs.

His head made a loud crack as it hit the stone, and he fell like a sack to the ground. Gavin’s lungs burned as he lay dazed, struggling to make sense of the spinning world around him. Attempting to push himself up onto his knees sent him back to the ground with a groan. Pain pinged between his head, his back, his stomach, and his wrists. He’d lost his dagger somewhere in the abrupt flight.

Voices sounded nearby, becoming garbled amid the ringing in his ears. When he focused beyond his own ragged gasps, he heard Nines calling for him before spitting threats at his soon-to-be captors.

Footsteps approached where Gavin lay, coming to a halt above where he struggled to get up. It took every last shred of his strength to lift his chin to glare up at Leo, the stranger who had shot Nines.

“No hard feelings, kid.”

The butt of the crossbow came down square on Gavin’s face, erupting in a new wave of pain as his nose was broken. The dizziness worsened and he fell to the ground, still clinging to the edge of consciousness as he listened to Leo retreat to the others.

“Nines!” Gavin wheezed, fingers scrambling in the direction from which he’d been thrown. Silence was the only response that met his call as the darkness finally took him.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you liked what you read please consider leaving a comment or kudos. Let me know what you thought or what questions you might have!
> 
> Next on my update list is Daydreamer. Oh boy, here we go again.


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